


Signs of Life

by islandgirl



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Caring Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28605750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandgirl/pseuds/islandgirl
Summary: “Someone help him,” Buck barks out. His gaze only drifts that way long enough to see two onlookers break free from the crowd and head for the stumbling driver before he’s focused back on Eddie and Chris. It’s like he has tunnel vision, blocking everything else out except for getting to the black pick-up truck, eyes searching it desperately for any sign of life.Buck encounters an accident scene and the bottom drops out of his world.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 424





	Signs of Life

**Author's Note:**

> SEE END NOTES FOR WARNING (does contain story spoilers)

“I wanna ride with, Dad,” Christopher announces as they’re walking towards their cars.

Carla had dropped him off at the station at the end of their shift and the start of their three days off. And boy did they have big plans. Two new movies, a to-go order of Italian just waiting for them to pick up, and a brand new set of Legos ready to be built. And Buck is making a surprise stop for all the fixing for ice cream sundaes. It’s gonna be epic.

Buck pauses at the back of the Jeep, spinning on his heel to look at Christopher. Even Eddie looks baffled, assuming his son was going to ditch him for a ride with Buck like always.

“Is it because Buck has to stop at the store?” Eddie asks suspiciously. Christopher’s gaze bounces sheepishly between them.

“Or is this because you know Gino will give you a cookie if you go pick up dinner with your dad?” Buck knows he’s right on the money when Christopher giggles, quickly bringing a hand up to try and stifle it. Buck just rolls his eyes.

“Ditched for a cookie. I’d expect it from your father,” Buck sighs dramatically as he hoists Chris up into the backseat of Eddie’s truck. “Never expected this kind of betrayal from you.”

Christopher throws his head back as he laughs. Buck can’t even be mad at that, just pouts his lower lip out extra far for Chris’s benefit as he reaches for the seatbelt to strap him in. It sends the kid into another fit of giggles as he pats the top of Buck’s head. Before Buck can pull back out of the truck, Chris leans close to his ear.

“I’ll get you a cookie too,” Chris whispers, not so quietly; like Eddie isn’t sitting feet away in the front seat watching them in the rearview mirror. When he sticks his pinky out to Buck as a silent promise, Buck grins at him, hooking his finger around Christopher’s.

“Say bye to Buck. We’ll see him in like half an hour at the house.” There’s a note of fond exasperation in Eddie’s voice as he starts the truck.

“Bye Buck.”

Buck ruffles the tousle of curls and closes the truck door. He moves to open the Jeep door, but can’t help himself. He turns back around and motions at Eddie through the passenger window. Once the window is rolled down, Buck just grins at him.

“You’re gonna pay for turning him against me,” he singsongs. When Eddie opens his mouth to protest, Buck slams his door and starts the Jeep with a roar.

Eddie rolls his eyes and flips him off with a grin before backing out of the parking place. Buck is right behind him as they pull out of the fire station parking lot.

As they approach the traffic light, it turns over to yellow. Eddie’s truck rolls right on through, Buck’s last glimpse of them is their silhouettes waving bye to him through the back window as they continue on. Buck, however, slows to a stop as the light goes red. He doesn’t mind waiting for the lights to cycle through, even if the driver behind him apparently does given the blast of a horn. Nothing is going to ruin his good mood.

He is spending the whole three day weekend, a rare occurrence, with the his Diaz boys and nothing is going to damper the excitement singing through his veins. When they saw him walk in with a larger than normal duffle bag at the start of shift, Hen and Chim had teased him mercilessly until he quietly, awkwardly, told them why he had it. Hen’s eyes had softened and her smile grew wider as she pulled him into a hug. Chim just wiggled his eyebrow suggestively, making a blush steal across Buck’s face in an instant.

He and Eddie were not there yet. They were both still dancing around this thing between them. They knew it was there, had never been able to ignore it, but they’re both so out of step with romance and relationships that neither knows exactly how or where or when to start. It’s like this thing between them is a tiny, fragile flower bud, just starting to take root and blossom. And they’re both too afraid that one wrong move, one wrong word is going to wilt its petals, make it shrivel up and wither away, that they tip-toe around it. They stick to their normal routines and if Eddie leans in a little closer to Buck while they watch a movie or Buck falls asleep curled up with Eddie in his bed, then they call it progress and leave it at that.

That’s why this weekend feels like a big step. Buck’s slept over before, sure, on the couch or in the guest room, but rarely with the intent of being in Eddie’s bed. He’s spent most of his weekend with them before too. But they’ve never planned it. They’ve never planned Buck being with them from the start of the weekend to the end, uninterrupted. No trips to his apartment for a change of clothes and shower and a few minutes out of their hair. No ‘Christopher has an appointment so we’ll meet here for lunch’ break up of the day. Their only plans are to stay in all weekend and hang out. Together. Like a family.

The thought sends a thrill of happiness through him. Tapping his fingers idly against the steering wheel, Buck reaches over and starts to fiddle with the radio. He had turned it to the kid’s station this morning when he got out at work knowing, or rather thinking, Chris would be with him. Now though, he taps mindlessly at the screen until he finds something cheery and upbeat playing.

Up ahead, a sea of cars floods the street, Eddie’s truck is long lost in the snarls of traffic. He knows, though, that Eddie will be turning off in a few blocks for Gino’s anyway. Unless, of course, he is going to take the long way so Chris can drive passed the blue building. It’s his favorite building after all; the bright blue one on the corner with the sea life on the side. Buck makes it a point to pass it any chance he can just to hear how many animals Chris can name in one breath as they zoom by. It never fails to make them both laugh.

Buck casts a glance to his phone sitting idly in his cupholder. No new messages. It’s only a matter of time before it’s chiming with new SnapChat notifications from Christopher and Eddie. He’s thoroughly expecting at least two pictures of Chris and a cookie from Gino’s. And probably a tempting shot of the large paper bag splotched with grease at the bottom, Chris teasing Buck with the promise of chicken parmesan and garlic knots to get him through the store faster. To which Buck will reply with the appropriate drooling emojis. It’ll become a game then, he knows, an emoji war with Chris until he pulls into the driveway, Chris undoubtedly winning the battle.

The light turns green and Buck rolls on through the intersection, traffic flowing around him. He cruises through two more intersections before the traffic starts to slow down, the blare of horns filling the air. The sea of cars in front of him is starting to part around a tangle of vehicles. As he gets closer, he can see a blue SUV sitting in middle of intersection with front end damage and a black pick-up truck pushed caddy corner through the intersection, the driver’s side smashed in. It’s a recent accident given the way traffic is just starting to back up and the small crowd of onlookers starting to gather.

It’s instinct that has him easing the Jeep to the side of the road just passed the accident. While providing emergency medicine is not his forte, like Hen or Chim, he’s well trained and been on enough accident scenes to provide assistance until help can arrive. He puts the Jeep in park and puts the hazards on. Instinct has him reaching for the emergency tool in his door pocket before he’s jumping out and heading towards the first vehicle.

As he approaches, it’s easy to read the scene. The shattered glass at point of impact, the lack ofskid marks, the position of the vehicles in the intersection, the location of the damage; he can see it play out like a movie in his head. The black truck advancing through the intersection, the SUV making a left turn into traffic, and BAM. Two people have their day irrevocably changed.

The closer he gets, an uncomfortable pit starts to open up in his chest. The black truck. It’s just like Eddie’s. Buck’s chest tightens as he picks up his pace, weaving through the outer edge of gawkers. Eddie and Chris. They would’ve been passing through this intersection a few minutes ago. An anxious feeling starts to claw up the back of his throat as he pushes through more people, trying to get closer, get a better look at the truck because if it’s Eddie’s truck, it’ll have a small dent near the tail light from that time Buck swung Chris around too fast and his crutch caught the back of the truck. And the license plate will start with B4 because Buck likes tomake ‘before what?’ jokes that always make Chris laugh. And it’ll have stickers on the back window because despite Eddie’s protest, Chris stuck a few there and the collection has secretly grown.

Dent? Check.

B4? Check.

Stickers? Check.

Oh god.

Buck feels like his chest is going to collapse in on itself as he breaks through the circle of the crowd and finds Eddie’s truck smashed in the middle of the intersection. His steps falter as the weight and the enormity of it comes crashing down around him.

He might have just lost his whole world.

On the heels of the thought comes a stabbing pain in his chest, stealing his breath. His knees instantly go weak. Oh god, Chris. Eddie. From here he can see blood on the shattered driver’s side window and feels like he’s going to crumble under the weight of grief and terror piling up on his chest. He’s too scared to move forward, afraid of what he’ll find, but the paternal instinct inside of him roars to life and sends him staggering forward. He needs to help them.

“I’ve called 9-1-1,” someone tells him, grabbing his arm as he passes by. Buck attempts to shake them off, not even glancing in their direction. “You shouldn’t -

“I’m a firefighter,” Buck snarls out when the interloper tries to intervene again. No one is getting in the way of him helping his boys. The hand on his arm falls away abruptly.

As he heads towards Eddie’s truck, he can see a man tumbling from the SUV, clearly dazed, blood sheeting down his forehead as he sways.

“Someone help him,” Buck barks out. His gaze only drifts that way long enough to see two onlookers break free from the crowd and head for the stumbling driver before he’s focused back on Eddie and Chris. It’s like he has tunnel vision, blocking everything else out except for getting to the black pick-up truck, eyes searching it desperately for any sign of life.

As he approaches, he can see the rear window dotted with stickers is broken, spiderwebs of cracks crawling out from a point of impact low on the window. Buck’s heart thunders in his chest as instantly he can imagine Chris’s little head being whipped around by the impact and slamming into the window. A hit that hard could cause awful damage to Chris’s little body. Bile rises in Buck’s throat, hands shaking as he grips the door handle and tries to open it.

“Chris? Chris!”

The door is locked. Buck yanks on the handle again and again, hard enough to rock the truck, but still the door won’t budge. He’s panicking, he realizes belatedly, breathes coming in sharp gasps. All the yanking in the world won’t open the door. He needs to get in another way. He needs to slow it down because right now it feels like the world, his world, is spinning out of control too fast and he can’t get a grip on any of it. He needs to see Chris and Eddie, needs to help them.

Forcing himself to stop, Buck takes a shuddering deep breath. He needs to take all of the fear and anxiety and grief and shove it into a box in the back of his mind. If he thinks about what his world would be like without the Diaz boys in it, it’ll cripple him. If he allows that anxiety to control him, he can’t help them. He takes all of it, his love, his terror, his anguish, and packs it away so that he can save them. He can save himself later.

“Chris?” Buck calls, ineffectually pulling at the door one more time.

No sound comes from the backseat. Buck’s heart hammers hard against his ribs as he peers through the shattered glass, looking for signs of his favorite kid. His breathe skitters out of his chest at the sight before him.

The backseat is empty.

It doesn’t make any sense. The shock to his system is like someone slapping him across the face, quick and sudden. He checks again, but there is no child in the backseat. Just a small cooler tossed around and spilled open, contents scattered everywhere.

Was Chris thrown from the backseat into the front? He had his seatbelt on, Buck was the one to click it into place so he knows for sure it was secure. Yet there is no sign of him at all in the rear of the truck. Buck has seen crazy things happen in accidents, bodies in places they shouldn’t have been.

He snatches his hand back from the door handle like it burned him and steps up to the driver’s window. This window is completely shattered and hard to see through. Buck can barely make out Eddie’s vague shape slowly starting to come around where he’s slumped over the deflating airbag and steering wheel.

“Eddie? Chris?” he calls out. “Stay still. Help’s on the way, okay? Just stay still. I’ve got you.”

Eddie’s door is locked too, one quick tug on the handle confirms that. He needs another way to get in and assess the damage. Using the emergency tool, Buck punches the small hammer through the bottom corner of the window. When he pulls it free, chunks of glass fall away leaving a hole behind. Using the hem of his shirt, Buck digs his fingers into the small opening and pulls. The glass falls away, shattering around his feet. Buck pays no mind to it, brushing away the broken shards covering the window’s edge before he leans in.

All he can see for a moment is the back of Eddie’s head, blood matting the hair on the side of his head and slicking the steering wheel where his head came to rest. His face is turned away from Buck, but he appears to be breathing normally. A quick glance down to the floor boards doesn’t reveal any more visible damage or blood, which is good, but Buck knows the worst damage isn’t always seen from the outside.

He tries to peer around Eddie’s slumped form, looking for any sign of Christopher, but can’t see anything. Frantically, his eyes sweep over the rest of the cab, or what is visible. The windshield is intact so Chris couldn’t have been ejected out the front. Where is he?

Eddie lets out another soft moan, moving his head slightly, trying to pull himself upright. It’s enough to get Buck moving. He steps up on the running board and leans in the window, hands holding Eddie’s head steady as he gently leans him back against the seat.

“Don’t move, Eddie,” Buck tells him, voice suddenly ragged. Two green eyes blink blearily at him and knock the breath right out of his lungs.

It’s not Eddie.

Shock sends a shivering pulse through his body, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. The feeling zips out from his chest, tingling along his nerve-endings, out to the tips of his fingers and toes before searing back again, settling like a ball of ice beneath his ribs. It’s a hollow, aching, nauseating feeling. Like a too-tender bruise, he can’t press on it right now, can’t handle that kind of agony when he needs to be focused, when someone’s whole word is in his hands.

It’s not Eddie. It’s not Eddie. It’s not Eddie.

The thought keeps repeating in his head, over and over, like his brain and his heart are trying to get on the same page and comprehend what the hell is happening. For a moment, Buck’s frozen, eyes tracing over the man’s face, taking in the flecks of silver interspersed with brown at his temples, the lines of age beginning to deepen into his face, the too-wide nose and the rough day old stubble scrapping his palms.

It’s not Eddie. And it’s not Christopher.

Even though he knows it, he can’t help the way his eyes flick around the cab, more of it visible now that Buck has the man leaning back in the seat. No small child; just some tools and a clipboard that got tossed around. It should be a relief, but the fear beneath his ribs isn’t thawing at all.

The man gives a small groan, eyes rolling around in confusion before they settle on Buck. It’s enough to snap Buck into action, focusing back on the injured driver. Before that confusion can turn into anything else, Buck gives his cheeks a light tap with his fingers and leans in the window a little more.

“Sir, my name’s Buck. I’m an off-duty firefighter. You were in an accident. I need you to stay still for me, okay?” Buck waits a moment, watches as those words sink in before he tries to continue. “Help is on the way, but I’m gonna stay with you until it arrives. Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”

The driver blinks, eyes rolling one way then the other like he’s mentally pulling all the puzzle pieces together. Finally, his eyes land back on Buck. “My head and my chest,” he grunts out, one hand coming up to rub his chest where the seat belt is pulled taut.

“Okay. I’m gonna just keep your head still until the paramedics arrive, okay? Let me know if anything gets worse.”

Those eyes dip closed, but Buck can tell by the lines of tension etched into his face that he hasn’t lost consciousness again. Glancing over his shoulder, he can see two of the bystanders have the driver from the other vehicle sitting on a curb, a wad of cloth pressed to his head. In the distance he can hear sirens approaching.

It’s a relief when the ambulance arrives. The paramedic that jogs up to him looks vaguely familiar, but Buck’s brain has shut down all but the essential functions and he can’t come up with her name. Mechanically, he follows her orders, keeping the driver’s head steady until they’ve collared him and extracted him from the vehicle. After that, Buck only catches a brief glimpse of him before he’s stretchered and loaded into the ambulance. The brief glimpse is enough for Buck to repeat the words over again.

It’s not Eddie.

A quick glance in the truck, doors now pulled open revealing it’s contents, shows no Christopher inside. No backpack full of legos and comics and toy dinosaurs. The similar black pick-up truck with it’s dented rear fender and secret sticker collection and B4 license plate are just that … a similar truck. It’s not the one he’s looking for.

They’re okay. They’re okay. They’re ok-

A white towel is held in front of his face, breaking his train of thought. Buck jerks back, startled. The paramedic from before is standing in front of him, eyes calculating as she holds out the towel. When Buck doesn’t reach for it, she nods towards his arms.

“That blood yours?”

Buck glances down at the streaks and smears of blood covering his hands and forearms. Gently he flexes his fingers and feels the sting of shallow cuts.

“I’m okay,” he tells her instead, aching fingers wrapping around the proffered towel.

She quirks her eyebrow in disbelief, but a shout from near the firetrucks draws her attention away long enough for Buck to try and pull some semblance of himself together. Whatever her assessment, he must pass muster because she nods, giving his arm a pat as she walks by.

“You did good."

He moves on autopilot, making it back to his Jeep, bloody towel tossed to the passenger side floorboard. One moment he’s at the accident scene watching the ambulances pull away. A blink and he’s pulling into the Diaz’s driveway behind the truck. The route from the firehouse to here so engrained in him, it takes no thought at all. He makes no move to get out though; doesn’t think he can.

The sight of the truck sitting the driveway so innocently, black paint gleaming in the afternoon sun, hits him like a kick to the chest. Buck clenches his hands tight around the steering wheel, pressing his forehead against them as a breath gets caught in his chest. Everything he pushed away before is now threatening to spill over. Anxious fear is skittering along his nerves as panic and grief press against his breastbone, threatening to crack him wide open.

Losing the people he loves is not something new to Buck. It’s something he’s learned how to live through; he’s done it enough times. With Abby. And Ali. His parents. Even Maddie. With anyone that ever walked into his life and then chose to walk back out of it again. It was like each time they left, they took a small piece of his heart with them, a hole he could never truly fill in again. He learned how to live with the emptiness.

This time though it’s different. It’s different because it’s Eddie and Chris. Eddie with his goofy smiles and steady hands and loving heart, who looked at Buck and saw a partner, an equal, an extension of himself. And Chris with his sunshine, light the world up smile and his big, kind heart and his wondrous eyes that saw the world in a whole new way, who looked at Buck and saw a superhero and a best friend.They came into Buck’s life and filled up every empty space in his heart with love and light. They are his whole world.

It’s different this time because they didn’t walk away like everyone else. They were ripped from his grasp. The people he loves most in the world, his family, gone-

“Bucky!”

Buck jerks in the seat, startled out of his thoughts. He glances up to see Chris, whole and alive, standing on the porch with a wide smile on his face as he waves excitedly. Buck’s heart throbs painfully in his chest at the sight.

“Dad! Bucky’s here.”

Chris carefully maneuvers down the sidewalk, head bopping in delight as he approaches Buck’s Jeep. Eddie, beckoned by his son’s call, appears at the door a second later, a fond look on his face as he watches from the porch.

They’re okay. They’re okay. They’re okay.

It’s suddenly too much too fast and Buck feels a shiver of anxiety race up his spine. The box cracked open and everything is starting to spill out.And try as he might, he can’t get a hold of any one emotion long enough to wrangle it back into it’s box. He can’t let Chris see him like this, can’t let Eddie see him like this, splintering and about to shatter.

He feels like a wild animal caught in a trap.

The truck is in the driveway, perfectly fine, not mangled in an intersection miles away. Chris is right there at his door, laughing as Eddie scoops him up and tickles his sides. Buck, though, can’t stop seeing Eddie’s face covered in blood, can’t stop picturing Christopher’s head whipping around and hitting the window hard enough to crack the glass. Buck clenches his hands tighter around the steering wheel, his shaky hands leaving smears of blood everywhere, as slams his eyes closed, desperate to try and block it all out.

“Buck?”

Somehow the concern in Eddie’s voice sharpens Buck’s focus enough to draw in a ragged breath. A second later, his door is opening and Eddie’s hands are reaching in. Keys are pulled from the ignition, jangling loudly in the sudden quiet space between them.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Eddie’s voice is laced with concern as he leans in.

Buck can’t answer. Doesn’t know how to answer that. Is he okay?

An hour ago he was in a good mood, ready for an awesome weekend in the Diaz household. Then his whole world flipped upside down. And while it’s flipped right side up again, no harm done, Buck’s still reeling, can’t find his footing despite the world settling. Just the thought of losing them - the knot in his chest squeezes so tight he’s sure his body is caving in under the pressure and pain. He can’t even think about it.

Eddie’s hand touches his shoulder jolting Buck back to reality. There’s something in that touch that instantly threatens to break him so Buck flinches back. Eddie’s hand quickly withdrawals without a word, but he stays close, hovering right outside the Jeep door. When Buck drags his eyes up to meet Eddie’s, he realizes that Christopher is nowhere in sight. His next breath hitches anxiously in his chest.

“Let’s get you inside,” Eddie decides, brow pinched into a frown.

Buck feels stiff, like he’s been sitting still for hours, whole body aching and heavy with the adrenaline crash. Eddie stays by his side, never touching, as they head inside. Christopher perks up at the sight of them, a hopeful smile on his face. It’s dashed a moment later when Buck doesn’t, can’t, return it. He lets Eddie shepherd him to the couch, too tired to put up a fight, before Chris is quickly ushered out of the room.

Just because they leave his sight doesn’t mean he can’t hear the whispered conversation drifting down the hall; Chris was never all that great at whispering.

“Is Bucky okay?”

“I don’t know, bud. But we are gonna take care of him. Give us a few minutes, okay?”

When footsteps head back into the room, it’s only Eddie with the first aid kit. He eases down on the coffee table in front of Buck, eyes traveling over him, brow crinkled in concern. When his eyes find Buck’s hands, littered with cuts and smeared with blood, his gaze jolts back to Buck’s. Or tries to; Buck keeps his head downturned. It isn’t until Eddie is reaching for him that Buck actually moves of his own accord.

“Don’t,” he rasps out, voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie freezes in place, hands hovering inches from Buck’s own. They’re so close together, it would take barely a flick of his wrist for them to be touching. And he wants it, oh god does he want it, to plant his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and affirm that he is real and whole and perfectly fine. He knows, however, that touching Eddie right now would be his undoing. A fine tremor runs through Buck’s hands as he backs them away, tucking them close to his body. He’s not fast enough; Eddie catches the tremor, frowning even more.

“Please don’t.”

“Okay,” Eddie answers back just as quietly. He backs off physically, leaning back out of Buck’s space and giving him a moment to collect himself.

“Just tell me if you’re hurt.” When Buck doesn’t move to untuck himself or answer, Eddie tries again, a note of plea in his voice. “Buck, please. Are you okay?”

“I thought it was you.” The words tumble out of Buck’s lips, voice raw and broken. “You and Chris. There was an accident-” the words choke off as Buck’s whole body shivers. His eyes flick up to meet Eddie’s for an instant; the love and concern that he sees there is enough to break him.

“I thought I lost you. Both of you,” he whispers. He feels like he’s falling apart and he just wants to curl up into himself and sink, sink into the black hole, sink into the icy darkness pressing in his chest because feeling nothing is better than feeling everything.

Eddie’s hands are reaching for him though and he should’ve known, Eddie would never let him get swallowed whole. One hand wraps around Buck’s wrist, tugging him closer, while the other plants itself on the side of his neck, grounding. They’re so warm they almost burn where they touch his icy skin, searing and painful, trying to start a fire beneath the surface. Buck gasps in shock, tries to pull away once, but Eddie just pulls him closer.

“No, Buck. We’re okay. We are right here,” he’s murmuring, pulling Buck’s stiff form against his chest, holding him close. “You didn’t lose us. We’re okay. We’re okay.”

Each whispered word sends a shiver down Buck’s spine until he’s trembling in Eddie’s arms. Tears drip freely down his cheeks as he silently breaks open. His hands clench tight in the sides of Eddie’s shirt, an anchor point as all the emotions wash through him again. Panic, fear, grief. It’s bite is sharp and painful as it rips through his chest. Eddie’s hand slides up his arm, settling against his back, the hand on his neck pressing him closer. Fire blazes under his skin where Eddie’s hands touch, flames licking away at the ice encasing him.

“You’re okay, Buck. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Chris and I are okay.”

Eddie keeps up a soft litany of reassurances, holding Buck close to him as tremors threaten to shake him apart. Buck clings to him as his mind replays that awful scenario again and again and again, as he pictures Eddie and Chris bloodied and broken in the mangled remains of that truck, as the grief and the imagined loss tear through him. It’s a never-ending cycle that leaves him breathless and dizzy, so he closes his eyes.

When it finally feels like he can breath again without the weight of the world pressing through his ribs, Buck dares to blink open his eyes. The living room is dimly lit with just the fading light of evening and the glow of the television. The house is quiet too. There’s a quiet murmur from the TV, volume turned low and playing some cartoon he recognizes as a favorite of Chris’s, and the soft clicks of lego bricks snapping into place.

He’s warm, which shouldn’t feel like a revelation but somehow it is. It’s the toasty kind of warmth he remembers from when he was a kid, when he stayed outside in the snow too long and came inside to huddle under a blanket next to the fireplace; the kind of warmth where your skin prickles,feels alive again. There’s a blanket over him, thick and velvety soft, tucked in around him from his shoulders to his toes. His fingers graze the blue fabric lightly, recognizing it as the one Chris keeps at the end of his bed.

His whole body feels heavy with exhaustion and his hands ache, feel too stiff as he clenches them a little tighter in the blanket. There are tiny nicks and cuts all over his hands and superhero bandaids wrapped around a few of his fingertips. Buck stares at them blankly, not recognizing the injuries, but he’d know those bandages anywhere. They’re Chris’s special bandaids, saved for the worst of boo-boos.

The pillow under his head shifts slightly and it’s only then that Buck realizes something important. He’s not laying on pillows, but on Eddie’s chest. It should be mortifying, except Buck can’t remember how he got here in the first place and, somehow, Eddie’s arm wrapped around his shoulders feels like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

He doesn’t understand the feeling at first. His eyes sweep over what he can see of the living room and everything seems normal, if a little subdued. Christopher is sitting on his bean bag chair at the coffee table just a few feet away, busy stacking lego bricks together as he watches cartoons. Eddie is, apparently, sprawled in the corner of the couch, content to have Buck sleep on his chest as he… taps away at his phone it sounds like. Buck can imagine him playing that dice game he swears he never plays, but somehow never deletes from his phone, just to pass the time until Buck wakes up. The thought fills him with such warmth and light he feels like he could levitate right off the couch. These boys are his whole world, his everything-

A quick flash of grief washes over him an instant before the memories roll in. The accident, the similar mangled truck, the realization that Eddie and Chris might be hurt or worse. It floods back in and for an instant Buck can’t breath, body jerking upright in panic.

“Easy Buck, everything’s okay. Just take a breath. Christopher and I are all right. We’ve got you. Everything is okay.”

Eddie lets him sit up, but his arm never moves from around Buck’s shoulders. His hand finds the back of Buck’s neck and gives it a soft, reassuring squeeze as Buck sucks in a ragged breath, bandaged hands clenching around the blanket puddle in his lap. Eddie’s voice is so calm and sure as he speaks that Buck can’t help but listen.

They’re okay.

Christopher is sitting near his feet, legos in hand, watching Buck with rapt attention. He looks like a loaded spring, ready to jump into action at any second. But he’s unharmed. Not a bruise or scratch on him. And Eddie is a warm solid weight pressing into his side, grounding him. When Buck glances over there is no pain in Eddie’s eyes or fear, just love and concern.

“You’re okay,” Buck whispers back, closing his eyes and blowing out an unsteady breath. He manages to release his hands on the blanket long enough to reach over and find Eddie’s, squeezing tight. “You’re okay.”

Eddie’s head leans against Buck’s as he sighs softly, their fingers intertwining. His relief is palpable as he sucks in a deep breath, lips brushing against Buck’s temple before he pulls back. His eyes sweep over Buck, calculating and assessing as they go. Whatever he sees must please him though because the lines of tension ease from around his eyes when he smiles at Buck.

“Yeah, we’re all okay,” Eddie tells him softly, a tenderness in his voice that Buck thinks is new. “I’m gonna go get you some water. Chris, you’re up buddy. You got him til I get back?”

Chris nods enthusiastically, beaming up at them. Eddie just chuckles as he carefully extracts himself from Buck’s tangle of limbs and blankets. “I think you’re in good hands,” he murmurs to Buck, brushing one last kiss across Buck’s forehead before he goes.

It isn’t until Eddie is out of earshot that Christopher’s beaming smile dims somewhat. He looks at Buck contemplatively before he pushes off his bean bag chair and comes to sit on the edge of the couch next to Buck. His fingers graze the edge of the blanket thoughtfully before he looks up.

“Are you still cold?”

“No,” Buck answers honestly. He no longer feels like he’s freezing from the inside out, but he also doesn’t want to give up the warmth of the blanket so soon either. He runs his finger along the soft material and wonders if he crossed a line by using Chris’s favorite blanket, or maybe Chris is just unsure of how to act around Buck now that Buck broke down in front of him. He’s about to offer the blanket back when Christopher lifts the corner and snuggles in under it, pressing into Buck’s side.

“Dad said you were cold so I got you my favorite blanket. It always makes me feel better.” Chris runs his hands across the blanket again before he looks up at Buck. “Did it help?”

“Yeah, buddy. It did,” Buck smiles down at him, sliding an arm around his shoulders to give him a sideways hug. “Thank you.”

“I shared my superhero bandaids with you too,” Chris offers, eyes so bright with warmth and happiness it almost hurts.

“I see that,” Buck flexes his bandage covered fingers with a smile. “They’ll be healed in no time now.”

Chris goes quiet then, smile slipping as he turns his face away. His little fingers curl up and knot themselves in the edge of the blanket as he mulls something over in his head. It gives Buck a moment to breath, to press his hands harder against his thighs as a fine tremble runs through them again. He can still feel the ghosts of that fear and grief echoing around his chest. Buck thought he’d drained himself of it in the protection of Eddie’s arms, but maybe it’s a feeling that will never truly go away.

“You were crying. Not like you were hurt, but different.” Christopher finally says, slowly dragging his gaze up to look at Buck. There’s a serious expression on his face, too serious and wise for his young age. He’s taking in Buck, mentally weighing him against the broken image from before and choosing his worse oh so carefully. “Dad said you were sad, that you saw something and it broke your heart.”

Buck can feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes, throat growing thick with emotions desperate to claw their way free. He can only nod along, forcing himself to keep Chris’s gaze and not look away. He won’t lie to the kid, but god he doesn’t want to have to dredge up the truth either.

Chris looks thoughtful for another moment before he leans closer to Buck, voice dropping to a low whisper as he asks, “Did someone die?”

“No,” he forces himself to say, doesn’t want those images dancing in Christopher’s head for a moment longer than they have to. When Chris just frowns, not understanding, Buck pulls Chris into his lap and hugs him tight against his chest. Immediately those little arms wrap around his neck and hold on tight, their cheeks pressing together as Buck takes in a shaky breath. When he leans back, Chris stays on his lap, one hand settling on Buck’s forearm, as if to ground him.

“No one died, Chris,” Buck tells him quietly. “But I thought they did.”

“And it broke your heart?”

“Yeah, buddy.”

“Who?” Chris asks, voice so full of innocence and wonder, like he can’t imagine who in Buck’s life could be that big and hold that much power to break him.

“You and your dad,” Buck chokes out.“I thought something really bad had happened to you and your dad, buddy.”

For a moment, Christopher just stares at him, his eyes wide and sparkling with tears. Then he’s curling into Buck, resting his head against Buck’s chest as his little arms do their very best to squeeze around Buck’s ribs. Buck finds his own arms wrapping themselves around the small boy, curling around him. His heart beats a little faster at the half-confession he’s already made. Here, with Christopher, though it feels safe to say it. Like even though he’s come in and trampled over this fragile start of family between them, they’re still okay.

“You know you and your dad are the most important people to me. You’re my family and-”

The floor creaks giving Eddie away as he tries to slip quietly back into the room. Buck hesitantly drags his gaze up to meets him. There is no judgement there, no guarded look, no shock or awkwardness. No, Eddie’s eyes are soft and full of love as he watches the two of them. It bolsters Buck’s confidence.

“I love you and your dad. I love you both so much that the thought of losing you made me a little crazy for a little while.”

A smile flickers across Eddie’s face as Chris picks his head up from Buck’s chest.

“It’s okay. We love you too, Buck,” Chris tells him without hesitation, his hand settling into Buck’s. “Right, Dad?”

Eddie eases back into his spot on the couch next to Buck. He leans forward and presses a kiss first to Christopher’s head, then against Buck’s temple as he murmurs, “Yeah, Buck. We love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING- To be safe I gave it a warning for graphic violence for the following reason: story involves depictions of a car crash involving a child. It is not very graphic, but if it makes you uncomfortable, please don't read.
> 
> I think I met the minimum required number of forehead kisses. If not, come yell at me.
> 
> Come follow me on [tumblr](https://cptmeatball.tumblr.com/)


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